Highlander Reborn (4 page)

“Aye,” he growled, his Scots coming out with his ire.

“We are predators. You may not like what we are, but you
are
one of us. You are a lion, you should act like it.”

“Lions eat gazelles, not humans. I
am
bloody acting like it.”

Amalia muttered under her breath in a language he didn’t understand.

“You eating pig or cow blood is like the lion eating tofu; it is wrong. You are Nightkind. We drink the blood of humans.”

“I won’t drink from humans, not ever again.”

“You don’t see the lion apologize to the gazelle! He feels no remorse. It’s the food chain, circle of life, whatever you want to call it. We at least leave our victims alive.”

He was silent.

She stared at him for a long time before she spoke ever so softly. “You didn’t know that we feed without killing?”

Nevin turned and strode away from her gaze, from the pity in that soft look. Raking a hand through his hair, he turned and glared at her.

“I became a bounty hunter for one reason. It is a way for me to take out vamp—
Nightkind
I see who do kill when they feed. I may hunt my human bounties, but I also hunt non-humans. I have yet to ever see one of
us
,” he spat the word, “drink without ripping open the neck of his meal.”

She raised her hand, reaching for him, “Oh, Nevin.”

He stepped back from her gentle touch, refusing to admit to himself that he was afraid he’d lose control.

Ignoring his obvious desire for space, Amalia pressed her lithe body against him and wrapped her arms tightly about his neck. She pressed her lips to his neck, and instantly his fangs and his cock lengthened.
Shite
, this woman would be the death of him. Caressing his neck with her cool fingers, she looked into his eyes and spoke the words that he had never thought to hear, had never
wanted
to hear.

“I trust you.”

He grated, “You shouldn’t,” before plunging his fangs deep into her neck.

Oh sweet Mother Mary
, he thought. Her taste was rich. Heady. Intense. He thought his knees might buckle from the sheer decadence she offered. His fingers tightened, gripping her hips and rubbing his cock against her. He might have moaned, and then he was tearing at their clothes, ripping at her pants, yanking down his fly, and plunging into her without breaking his hold on her neck.

Her tight, wet, heat was heaven, as close to heaven as he’d ever see. When he could pry himself from her neck, he kissed his way up to her lips. His kiss was hard, he knew it, but he couldn’t stop it anymore than he could stop the earth from turning. He fucked her mouth the same way he was fucking her.

She was his, and when they were done, she would know it. With each thrust of his cock, she moaned. With each moan that escaped her sinful mouth, he kissed her deeper, taking the little sounds she made and collecting them for later. He knew happily ever after was not part of the game plan, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t store up each noise, each kiss, each touch, and save them for the lonely, dark years to come. Why should they be any different than the lonely, dark years he’d had?

When she shattered, he pushed her harder, lifting her hips from the ground—when had they moved to the ground?—gripping her with one hand, and bracing them against the floor with his other.  Nevin slammed into her again and again, reveling in her screams of ecstasy, taking those from her as well, making them his. He would brand her body with his so that while they may never have this chance again, she was a queen for Christ’s sake, they would have this. Queen or not, she would know that her body belonged to him. Centuries down the road, she may be in bed with another man, but it would be
his
cock her body craved,
his
kiss her lips desired. He would brand her body as his from the inside out until he was all her body would ever want. Every molecule that made up who she was would cleave to him. She was his.

His shout joined her screams as he orgasmed, knowing that he would never get this chance again.

“Unngh,” her voice was raspy from moaning, and her brain was mush. She couldn’t make her mouth form words.

“Aye,” Nevin rolled off her, pulling her with him. Once he had her settled against him, she leaned up to peer into his eyes.

“Nevin,” she broke off, uncertain of how to say what she meant. She hated that she felt unsure of herself around this man. But perhaps that was part of his draw? She wasn’t insecure. Ever. Except when she was around Nevin.

Amalia opened her mouth to say something brilliant, of course, but he pressed his hand against her lips, effectively shushing her with his fingers. His whole body tensed as he looked at the door, waiting for someone to come in. But who would disturb her here?

The attack came from above.

Her roof crashed in with a great splintering implosion. Nevin had her across the room before she could draw breath. Then he was gone. At the blurring speed he moved, her eyes could barely keep up with him. After merely a few moments, he was back, tossing clothes at her.

Taking the hint, she dressed quickly, strapping the small knife he handed her to her upper thigh, over her pants. Amalia glanced around her home and noticed several bolts punched through her walls.  It was as if someone had fired several dozen arrows from a crossbow, and then left. And Amalia hadn’t seen anything. Nevin was faster than she’d thought, but the idea that her enemy could be as fast made her uneasy.

Ignoring the mess and debris, she stepped over it as he did, trying not to wince at each crunch that used to be her home.

She didn’t speak, which was good. Nevin didn’t want to talk. He still had her taste on his tongue and instead of finding a bed, he was hunting a killer. He stopped and lifted his head to the coming dawn. 
Shite
, they would have to find somewhere to sleep come morning.

His gift for tracking sometimes came with the knowledge of where his prey was headed. It’s part of what made him a damn fine hunter. He knew where this vampire was going.

“You know where the vampire is going.”

She said it at the same time he thought it. “Yeah, you ready?”

“For what?”

“We have to go to your castle.”

Chapter 6

They materialized in the dim room and stared out at the gathered Nightkind. Nevin stood ready for a fight, and Amalia stood, regal as any queen, surveying her people. Only these weren’t her people, at least not all of them. Someone here was a betrayer. The worst of the monsters, he preyed upon his own people.

The quiet in the room erupted into chaos as the shock of seeing Amalia with Nevin wore off. Only Sebastian seemed unfazed by their unannounced arrival. He dipped his head in acknowledgement, but otherwise stayed out of the way.

“Where is he?” Nevin’s gravelly voice echoed off the stone walls of the hall. He wasn’t loud. He didn’t have to be. His rough voice carried across the chamber.

Amalia stood firm as the vampires in the room glanced around at each other. The room held its collective breath. Nevin was gone and back faster than anyone Amalia had ever seen. In his grip, dangling by the throat, was a vampire she didn’t recognize.

“Who are you?”

Nevin loosened his fingers just enough for him to speak.

The man spat in Amalia’s face before he choked out, “You let him drink from you.”

The crowd murmured. Nevin glanced at Amalia, who stood firm, but her face had paled. Had she committed some
faux pas
in allowing him to drink?

Raising her hands, Amalia instantly had her vampires’ attention. “Yes.”

With that one word, the crowd was in an uproar. His hearing could pick out bits and pieces from all the voices.

“Her pet Highlander. . .”

“Our bloodline is pure. . .”

“We won’t stand for a commoner. . .”

“The bounty hunter?”

Was this still about her seethe’s fucking bloodlines? Nevin gripped the man’s neck so hard it popped.
Well shite
. They would have to wait for the vertebrae to heal before he could talk again. In disgust, Nevin dumped the limp body to the ground.

Amalia just stood there while the mutters turned to shouts. Her own people were shouting at her. Oh the fuck no. He moved forward cracking his neck from side to side, ready for a brawl. A slim, pale hand tightened on his wrist with surprising strength. He glanced at her in time to see her imperceptibly shake her head. He understood. She needed to do this.

“Enough.” Her voice was quiet, yet it carried. Everyone stopped. It took Nevin a second to realize Amalia had made them stop. She held every vampire in the room frozen in place.

She turned a slow circle and made eye contact with every vampire there. Then she spoke.

“You forget yourselves. I may not spend my days languishing at Court,” she glared at several vampires in the corner, “but I am still Queen.” The word lingered in the air as if it had a power of its own. Sebastian walked towards her, bowed, and stood off to the side so that he and Nevin flanked Amalia. Good man.

Amalia continued, “You are afraid. Every one of you fears this man,” she indicated Nevin.

Who, me?
he thought. They should fear him. He would slaughter them if any so much as moved towards her.

“He is the future of our kind. Our bloodline stagnates. There have been no new births from the Purebreds, and there has been a low success rate in the Changelings. He has been part of our bloodline for centuries, and yet you all still fear him. No longer.” She paused before continuing, “He is mine.”

Well, this was new.

“He will take his rightful place in our seethe and you will show him the respect due my mate,” she drew a deep breath, “or I will let him take your fucking heads.”

Ah, that’s my girl. Wait, mate?
Nevin’s head was reeling from that announcement, but he wasn’t able to say anything. Amalia had released her hold on the vampires and they were all speaking at once again.

She ignored the crowd and toed the body with her boot before kicking him hard. The man flew back from the force of her kick, but he jumped up and headed straight for her. Nevin was there as well as Sebastian, and both had an arm before the man got within a foot of Amalia. Her small hand was about his throat, but she wasn’t choking him, she was leaning in with her fangs extended.

Nevin was pissed. He didn’t want her drinking from this filth. He didn’t want her drinking from anyone but him. The jealousy ate at him, but he held firm. She may have called him her mate, but he had no real claim on her.

“Who sent you?” her soft voice teased the hair at the man’s neck.

“Fuck you, lady.”

Amalia’s power rippled through the air, reminding the crowd once more that she was not a woman with which one fucked.

“Who sent you?” The man’s eyes were rolling back in his head, and blood dripped from his ears. 
Shite, what was she doing to him?

“P-please. Stop,” he gasped. “I’ll talk.”

“There now, that wasn’t so hard.” She brushed her hands together as if brushing off a task well-done, and waved in his general direction. “Proceed.”

The man staggered, but stayed standing. “He’ll kill me.”

Her eyes glinted, her fangs flashed. “I’ll do much worse than kill you.”

“H-he didn’t want you to mate the Highlander. . .he said you’d drag us all down.”

“Who’s us? You’re not in my seethe. Why should my mate affect you?”

“King Vladimir and his Purists.”

Amalia rolled her eyes. “Oh for the love of. . .Really?”

“Who’s Vladimir?” Nevin asked Sebastian.

“King of the Russian territories, Dracula wannabe, insists his people call him Vlad. Amalia wouldn’t let him court her several centuries ago, he pressed his suit, it didn’t end well. Nasty business.” Sebastian and Nevin spoke to each other without taking their eyes off Vladimir’s minion. That’s how they noticed the knife glinting in the man’s hand before he came at Amalia. With each man reaching for him at the same time, his death was brutal, but swift.

Amalia took her eyes off her prisoner for one second, and it was more than enough time for an attack.
Stupid, stupid stupid
. If she had a wall handy, she’d bang her head against it. She was over a thousand years old. After a millennium, she should know better.

She turned to look at Nevin and Sebastian and was stunned to see them clasping forearms in a sign of respect. She blinked and it was over. Sebastian was directing clean-up of the. . .body parts. Nevin was striding towards her.

“The threat is not eliminated.”

“You mean Vlad?”

“Aye, if he’s any kind of warrior, he’ll not let this go.”

“He’s not a warrior. He’s a brutal and cruel vampire with no honor and even less of a conscience.”

“Then we must kill him.” Nevin’s low voice gave her chills.